Kano! Sachi froze. Kano was near Kyoto and her village. But she had no idea of its allegiance, whether these men were with the north or the south. No matter what, she had to convince them that she was the princess. What would the princess do in this situation? Would she speak? Would she open the door of the palanquin? Surely not. She would never make herself known to any man.
The silence stretched interminably. Then she heard a voice – a woman’s voice, thin and high-pitched, like a mouse’s squeak.
‘Step away, sir!’
Sachi nearly shrieked with shock and disbelief. Taki! What on earth was she doing here? But her relief was quickly replaced by horror. Even if it meant breaking her word to the princess she would jump out of the palanquin and fight alongside her. She would do anything at all, whatever it took, to make sure Taki was not hurt.
‘I am Lady Takiko of the imperial household, handmaiden to the shogun and escort to the lady who travels in this palanquin,’ squeaked the voice in loud clear tones. ‘If you wish to address her, you may do so through me.’
The next minute Taki’s big eyes appeared on the other side of the blind.
‘Are you all right?’ she whispered.
‘Taki, I’m so glad to see you. How did you get here?’
‘I’ll tell you later. We were attacked by southerners. These other fellows turned up and beat them off. The southerners must have gone for reinforcements.’
‘But who are they? Who are these men?’
‘I’m not sure. I’m going to speak to them.’
Sachi heard Taki’s clear tones and the male voice speaking in reply. Then Taki was back at the window.
‘They’re from Kano. They say they’re with us. They say we have to go with them – for our safety.’
‘So they’re kidnapping us.’
‘They say they can’t risk the princess falling into southern hands, and if they leave us here that’s what will happen. Anyway, you can’t abandon your mission and go back to the palace.’
‘But how do we know they are what they say they are?’
‘We have to trust them. We have no choice. Our guards have been killed and our bearers and attendants have run away.’
‘Run away!’ snorted Sachi in disgust.
‘There was a plot of some sort and we were betrayed. There are southern hoodlums all over the place. We have to carry on with the pretence. If the southerners think the princess is fleeing for the mountains, they’ll follow us instead of heading for the palace. That’s our duty. These men have a baggage train, they have bearers.’
‘But who are these men?’ Sachi persisted.
‘Ronin.’
Ronin. Sachi had never before come face to face with such creatures. Men like that were reckless, dangerous characters, not answerable to anyone. They probably changed sides depending on which way the wind was blowing. But Sachi and Taki were in their hands. They had no choice but to accept their word.
‘They want to see you,’ said Taki. ‘They want to make sure there isn’t a man in there. I’m going to open the door. Don’t say anything. Just bow. Then I’ll close it again.’
Sachi hastily tossed her cowl around her face as the door slid back. Daylight flooded in, dazzlingly bright. Drawing herself up with as much dignity as she could muster, she nodded curtly, as she had seen the princess doing. Silhouetted outside were three figures. Two were on horseback, the other on foot, holding the reins. The tops of their heads were bristly and unshaven. They did not even have topknots. One had hair sticking out like a bush and the other two had rough ponytails. She had never before seen such wild-looking men.
Beyond them she could see palanquins collapsed on their sides. Bodies were heaped here and there, blood still gushing from their torsos. Some twitched and writhed. The soil was so wet it looked as if it had been raining; but the puddles were an ugly shade of dark red, already congealing at the edges. There were strange rock-like objects lying around. Sachi stifled a gasp as she realized they had hair and ears and faces. A foul odour filled the air, the mingled stench of blood and flesh and human excrement. As it swirled into the palanquin, she retched and pulled her cowl tighter about her face.
Then the door slid shut.
Sachi tried not to think about what she had witnessed but the image was imprinted on her mind. Again and again she pictured that hideous scene and the noises she had heard, the dreadful groans and gasps. She shuddered with the horror of it. Those men had died like samurai – some trying to seize her, others to protect her. Some must have been the guards and bearers who had ridden alongside. Yet in death they were all the same.
But at least Taki was there. Knowing that she was close by, Sachi was no longer prepared to die. Next time she was called upon to give her life she would fight, and fight hard.
Maybe they could escape. But where could they go? The women’s palace was gone, reduced to ashes. There was only one safe place – the village. For a moment Sachi imagined herself back in the tile-roofed house with the river rushing below and the mountain soaring overhead. It was something to hang on to, something real in the middle of all this madness. If she survived, if she got out of this box alive, she would find some way to get there.
Somewhere in the distance there was a hubbub. Suddenly all Sachi’s senses were alert. She was listening with all her might. The southerners . . . But the noise was in front of them, not behind. Besides, if the southerners attacked, they would creep up on them silently.
Chimes and gongs were jangling, whistles tootled and drums pounded feverishly. She peeked through the slats of the bamboo blind. They had left the broad avenues of daimyo mansions and were threading their way through alleys lined with ramshackle houses and shops. A stream of people hurried in the same direction, stooped under huge bundles tied on their backs.
The noise grew louder. At first she could not catch the words. Then she began to pick them up. The singers were chanting, ‘Ee ja nai ka? Ee ja nai ka? Who gives a damn? Who gives a damn?’
Then came some verses that made no sense at all, something about ‘butterflies flying from the west’. The tune was so catchy she found herself humming along. Despite everything she had to smile. She had not heard language like that since she left the village.
The convoy came to a halt. The street ahead of them was overflowing with people, crammed so tightly it was impossible to pass. The mob drew back for a moment as if startled by the intrusion of the imperial palanquin, then closed in around it. There were people dressed in flaming red with red lanterns on their heads, men capering about in women’s kimonos and women in happi coats and leggings like men. Some of the men, and women, too, had thrown off their clothes and were cavorting half naked, their leathery skin shiny with sweat. They barged up against Sachi’s palanquin, squinting through the blind.
‘Hey, lady! Come and dance,’ they bawled. ‘Come and dance! Who gives a damn? Who gives a damn?’
Some had bowls of sake and pieces of fish and rice cakes and thrust them up against the blind. Sachi shrank away, wrinkling her nose at the stench of sweat and food and sake and the staring eyes. There had been plenty of festivals in the village, and in the palace, too, they had performed the summer dances to welcome the spirits of the dead. But there was a crazed desperation to this dancing she had never seen before. Scraps of paper, like the lucky charms that temples sold, blew about in the wind. People chased after them, grabbing at them.
‘Hurry up, get a move on,’ barked the ronin riding alongside.
‘Clear the way,’ yelled the guards, shoving their way through. The crowd danced on, waving their arms in the air and swaying in unison, singing at the tops of their voices.
When the convoy reached the border post that marked the edge of the city, the gates were wide open. The guards let them pass without even bothering to bow. The whole world seemed to have gone mad.
Gradually the smells and uproar of the city faded behind them. The sky arched overhead, dazzlingly blue. Clumps of trees cast long shadows. Parched brown fi
elds stretched to the horizon, merging into the mountains that shimmered in the pale light of the winter sun. Sachi was beginning to relax. Out here among the fields there was nowhere to hide. If the southerners came after them they would see them. She breathed the air, savouring the coldness and freshness.
‘Who gives a damn? Who gives a damn?’ she hummed to herself. It was oddly comforting.
It was not until they were well away from the city that the palanquin stopped. Taki was at the door to help Sachi out. Sachi gazed at her small, thin, determined face, her pointed chin and large fierce eyes. There was something new about her, as if she too had come alive, as if she was enjoying being outside in the great world. Taki had saved her life. If it hadn’t been for her Sachi might be dead. Impulsively she threw her arms round her.
‘I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you!’ she said, tears springing to her eyes. ‘You risked everything to come with me.’
Taki hugged her back.
‘I’m your maid,’ she laughed, shrugging. ‘I was just doing my duty.’
They were at a small roadside inn, not at all the kind of place a princess would visit. There was no sign of the ronin or anyone else, so it seemed that at least they had some respect for her position.
A small bent woman with a round, smiling face ushered them, bowing profusely, into a shabby room. It was years since Sachi had been in such a place. She glanced at the rough walls, the worn matting spread on the bare wooden floor and the patches on the paper of the doors. The smells of woodsmoke and tobacco and food cooking reminded her of home – of the village. She sat with Taki while the woman served them steaming bowls of buckwheat noodles. A few hours back, Sachi had thought she would never eat again. Now she was starving.
‘How could you bear it, Taki?’ she said. ‘You saw all that. You were in the middle of it. Weren’t you afraid?’
Taki looked puzzled. Then she smiled proudly.
‘You’re teasing,’ she said. ‘They were our enemies. I was pleased they were dead. I’d love to see their heads nailed to the castle gates.’
Sachi drained the last mouthfuls of soup. It was strange to hear Taki say such things. But she was a samurai. Sachi had to learn to be like her, calm and composed even when battle was raging. Now they were on their own, away from the castle, it was all the more urgent.
‘Well,’ she said finally, ‘at least we’re safe, so far.’
‘Not quite,’ said Taki.
‘That’s true,’ said Sachi. ‘Anyway, we’ve outrun the southerners, for the time being. Trouble is, we don’t know what’s ahead. And these men – who are they? How do we know they’re on our side? They don’t even have a lord to answer to. How do we know they’re not taking us as hostages?’
‘Careful what you say,’ said Taki. ‘There are spies everywhere. There’s nothing we can do. We just have to obey.’
‘Obey what?’ said Sachi. ‘We were supposed to lead the southerners away from the castle – or I was rather. You already disobeyed! You were told not to come along.’
She smiled at her friend. Taki was picking at her noodles. She’d probably never had plain peasant fare before. The voluminous skirts of her court robes half filled the bare little room. She was such a samurai, such a court lady. ‘But I’m glad you did, Taki. I’m very glad.’
‘Lady Tsuguko realized you needed a chaperone,’ said Taki in her matter-of-fact way. ‘Even the most ignorant southerner would never believe a princess would travel without one, no matter how many attendants she had.’
‘It’s a long way to Kano,’ murmured Sachi.
‘It’s madness to go all that way,’ grumbled Taki. ‘I can’t imagine what these fellows are thinking of.’
They looked at each other.
‘But we have no choice,’ said Sachi. ‘I can’t reveal that I’m not the princess till I know she’s safe. And I can’t go back to the castle. I’ve been given a mission and I have to fulfil it. Perhaps the southerners saw the imperial palanquin leaving the city. They could be on our tail right now.’
There was a rumble as the heavy wooden door creaked in its grooves. The women started and glanced at each other. Sachi quickly pulled her cowl across her face as the door opened. It was the man she had seen holding the reins of the horse. He slid on his knees into the room.
He was holding two halberds in elaborately embroidered silk bags. Keeping his eyes on the coarse straw matting, he pushed them towards the women.
‘Here,’ he croaked. His voice had barely broken.
Dumbfounded, Sachi stared at the exquisite silk. Quite forgetting she was supposed to be the princess, she let her cowl fall aside and stretched out her small white hand to touch the hard steel inside the delicate case.
She glanced at the man. He was barely a man at all. He still had the long forelock of a child, though it was loose and shaggy instead of neatly oiled. Beneath the uncombed hair and dusty travelling clothes, he was just a boy. His face was so pretty, his cheeks so round and smooth, he might almost have been a girl were it not for the straggly hairs sprouting above his lips. The tips of his ears were scarlet.
‘You have taken good care of us,’ she said. She felt a smile crossing her face. With her halberd to hand she could take on any enemy.
The youth grew redder still. He took a deep breath.
‘Domain of Kano. House of Sato,’ he gabbled. His voice was shaking. ‘Name of Tatsuemon. At your service.’
A board creaked outside the room.
‘My masters,’ he stuttered. ‘If your honours . . . If your honourable ladyships . . . If you permit . . .’
Sachi realized with a shock that this child-man, who had just wielded his sword in a ferocious battle, was more afraid of her than she was of him. Then she remembered how they must look, she and Taki, with their white skin and fine-boned faces, in their magnificent brocade kimonos, wafting perfume wherever they moved. Even her nun’s robes must seem unimaginably lavish. If this boy thought she was an imperial princess, he must think her way above the clouds. These men risked execution for daring even to breathe the same air as beings so high above their station.
Taki nodded haughtily to the boy as Sachi rearranged her cowl over her face. The door slid open again and two men came in. One shuffled forward while the other remained on his knees by the door.
So these were men. Not children like young Tatsuemon but real men. Sachi felt a moment of blind panic. It was years since she had been in the presence of such exotic and dangerous creatures. They carried with them a faintly salty odour mingled with the smell of tobacco smoke. And Taki? Had she ever spoken to a man other than when playing with her brothers as a child?
Taki broke the silence.
‘How dare you enter our presence without asking our permission?’ she demanded, using the language with which court ladies addressed commoners. ‘We could have you executed like common criminals, without the privilege of suicide, for actions unbecoming your station.’
‘Our offence is neverending,’ muttered the first man, brushing his head on the worn matting. It was the voice Sachi had heard outside the palanquin, soft and cultured despite the rough samurai intonation. ‘We are sorry for inconveniencing you. Toranosuké of the Matsunobé, at your service,’ he added, with a formal bow.
‘Shinzaemon of the Nakayama, domain of Kano,’ growled the second.
‘Where are you taking us?’ barked Taki.
‘We are sorry,’ said the first man. ‘We had to make a rapid decision. Her Highness’s safety is paramount. There are rumours that the southerners are searching for her and determined to capture her. We can’t allow that to happen. We have urgent business in Kano and we are taking you there. We will arrange a safe place for you to stay until the danger is passed. We undertake to be responsible for your safety and well-being. We will protect you with our lives.’
‘And suppose we don’t want to go with you? Kano is near Kyoto, isn’t it? I have heard it’s a hornet’s nest there.’
‘You are our respons
ibility,’ said the man. ‘Our fates have been thrown together.’
Sachi peeked at him from behind her cowl. He was bundled like a samurai in layers of thick winter clothing. But his hair was long and unoiled, tugged back into a glossy black tail and bound with a thick purple cord. It was strange to see hair on top of his head where samurai were supposed to be clean-shaven. The hands on the rough straw mats were soft, too soft for a soldier’s. He did not seem the kind of person who could create the mayhem she had glimpsed outside the palanquin.
The second man was squatting silently behind. He looked up suddenly and for a moment their eyes met. Sachi had never seen such a face before – lean with jutting cheekbones and piercing eyes that slanted upwards like a cat’s. A scar cut across the dark skin of his cheek. He had a shock of hair, bushy as a fox’s tail, and large, powerful hands – swordsman’s hands. She felt a tingle of something like fear and quickly looked away.
‘We are at war,’ he barked. ‘We all have to suffer. Time is short. If you ladies don’t want to come with us, we’ll leave you here.’
‘Don’t be hasty, Shin,’ muttered the first man. It was strange – rather touching – to be in the company of men after all this time, to hear them talking among themselves in their gruff way. ‘We can’t do that. It’s our duty to protect the princess.’
‘We have other duties too. All this talking wastes time. Quickly. Tell them.’
The first man turned to the women again.
‘I am afraid your ladyships must suffer yet greater inconvenience,’ he said. ‘We are attracting too much attention. You must leave your palanquins behind. These people will store them for you. You can trust them.’
‘What?’ snapped Taki. ‘So how do we travel? You don’t mean . . . ?’
Her voice trailed off. The man bowed. Taki looked outraged. She glanced at Sachi, who nodded. There was nothing they could do. In any case, luxurious though it was, she was beginning to hate the imperial palanquin. The man drew in his breath apologetically.
‘And . . . Excuse our rudeness . . . Your garments. We have spoken to the lady of the inn. She will provide you with clothes. Your garments will be carefully transported.’
The Last Concubine Page 14